


give me shelter

by isawet



Series: play it again [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isawet/pseuds/isawet
Summary: for the prompt "can I sleep here?"





	give me shelter

Once again, Lena thinks with an internal sigh, her personal office is a smoking ruin. And the caped crusader for truth and justice and don’t trust Luthors is standing in the center of the crater, having the audacity to look sheepish. “Lena–” she starts, and Lena cuts her a look sharper than kryptonite.

“I trust you’ll see yourself out,” Lena says, gathering up her shoulderbag like she isn’t barefoot and the fringe of her skirt isn’t scorched, weaving around the DEO agents dragging the bad guy of the week away in glowing cuffs.

Supergirl catches her by the elevator, electing to go straight through the wall like Wile E. Coyote instead of making her way through the crowd as Lena had. Lena adds it to the mental tally of restoration costs. “You shouldn’t be,” Supergirl starts, and the ding of the elevator interrupts her. At least that’s still working. “Alone?” Her voice half-rises, awkward, she shifts on her feet.

There are at least fifteen highly trained agents waiting in the lobby for her, one of whom will drive her to the finest home security old money can buy, in a bulletproof SUV. “I’ll survive,” is what she chooses to disclose, stepping into the elevator and pressing the close door button. She meets Supergirl’s eyes, the streak of alien blood in her dark honey curl, the smudge of soot above one grey-blue eye. “It’s what Luthors do best.”

++

Lena lasts nearly three hours at her house, long enough to take a shower and change her clothes, text James and grab something to eat. Long enough to do all those things, but all she manages is to leave her phone lying on the kitchen counter and sit on her balcony; drink two glasses worth of wine straight from the bottle, watching the clouds roll across the moon and the stars twinkle dully in the sky, never completely dark with all the lights of National City blazing underneath it.

“I’d pour you a glass,” she says, to the seemingly empty air, “but I’m not convinced you could appreciate it.”

She hears the flutter of a cape against stone, and sees a blur of red and blue out of the corner of eye. “And you don’t seem to have any glasses.”

“No need,” Lena says, “if you’re drinking alone. Was there something you needed?”

Supergirl says nothing.

“I trust you’ve verified there’s no present threat here.”

“Yes,” Supergirl says.

Lena takes another slow draw from the wine bottle. “Then what else is there to say.”

She hears Supergirl exhale, and the soft scrape of her boot. She turns her head to look and there’s no one there.

The she picks up her smartphone and arranges for a car.

++

She raps on Kara’s door at nearly three in the morning. There’s a thump from within, a muttered grunt, and then the door opens. “I’m sorry to wake you,” Lena starts, and then stops short. Kara is in sweats and a worn t-shirt, but her hair is wet, pulled back into a messy ponytail, there’s smudges of makeup still around her eyes. “Or… not.”

“I was… working.” Kara coughs slightly, then smiles. “Everything okay? It’s late. Or early, depending on who you ask.”

“There was an incident,” Lena says. “I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

Kara opens the door wider. “What happened?” she asks, ushering Lena inside. “Are you okay? Do you want to shower?”

“I can’t sleep,” Lena admits, sidestepping the questions. “I know it’s quite a big ask, but–”

“You can sleep here,” Kara says immediately, before Lena can even ask. She gently nudges Lena across the room, and before Lena can formulate another sentence she finds herself sitting on the couch while Kara deposits a small bundle of clothing in her lap. “Here, change while I whip something up in the kitchen.”

“I’m not hungry,” Lena says automatically, her fingers clenched too tight in the fabric.

Kara is already in the kitchen; Lena can hear cupboards opening and closing, the clink of pots and pans as she rummages, the clatter of silverware. The sounds are homey, warm. Some of the tension bleeds out of Lena’s shoulders and she crosses to the bathroom.

She changes, leaving her expensive blouse and skirt crumpled to ruin on the tile, splashing water on her face and using one of the hairbands on the counter to pile her hair into a bun. She looks at herself in the mirror. Kara’s sweats are too long on her and she pulls the string as tight as she can, knotting it before she cuffs the legs, rolls the waistband. The t-shirt hangs off one shoulder, too broad for her, but it’s soft and it smells like Kara, whatever soft spring floral thing she uses for laundry detergent. She shivers, goosebumps rising on her skin, and finds a National City University sweatshirt hanging on the back of the door–it smells even softer, soap detergent and the lingering fade of a gentle perfume. She indulges, dipping her nose under the collar before taking a fortifying breath and emerging from the bathroom.

Kara is still in the kitchen, and Lena shuffles in, feeling inexplicably dwarfed by Kara’s clothes–she’s not that much bigger than Lena. Kara looks up and there’s a flash of something on her face, a freezing followed by an emotion Lena can’t categorize. Then she smiles. “Not food,” she promises, turning back to the stove and stirring something. “Hot chocolate. Cure for all that ails you.”

“Oh?” Lena steps up to peer into the simmering pot. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it homemade.” Or possibly at all, but she declines to state that particular fact.

“It’s my mother’s recipe,” Kara says. “Eliza, I mean. She used to make it for me when I–had a bad day.”

It’s too personal, too sharp. Lena turns away to open cupboards, finding the mugs quickly. She sets them on the counter at Kara’s elbow. “Anything else I can do to help?”

“There’s whipped cream in the fridge,” Kara says, starting to pour. “The door.”

++

They sit on the couch and sip, the mugs warm in their hands. Lena exhales at the first taste of it, almost too rich and too sweet on her tongue, but it warms her all the way down, from her mouth to her belly, and she slumps into the couch cushions, foregoing perfect posture. “A bad day,” she says quietly.

Kara looks out the window, where the sun has just started to rise, the sky lightening from black to grey. “A new one now, though.”

Lena feels herself go listless, slumped, her eyelids unbearably heavy.I have to go back to work soon, is what she means to say, but Kara’s fingers against hers makes the words fade into smoke on her tongue. Kara eases the mug away, setting it down gently on the coffee table with a clink. “Thank you,” Lena mumbles, forcing it out, her head tipping back.

A blanket settles over her, warm hands tuck it around her body. “Of course,” is the last thing she hears Kara say before she drifts off to sleep. “You’re my friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @ sunspill


End file.
